Chapter Six: The Torn Prince

I figured Cyrus was never the type of person to morn over lost ones. I'd seen the way he'd acted when he lost one of his many employees. Didn't shed a damn tear. Soon we were to search for our next ghost, who was a lot closer to us this time. Not having to travel very far, our next destination was my home turf, Los Angeles.

I rested some more after our previous capture of "The Withered Lover." She was an easy ghost to catch, the easiest of the bunch. Willingly she came to us without a hassle or big show. I know she was forced into the glass containment like the others though. Erin was with me the whole time when I rested, I knew she was worried about me and my psychic instincts, but didn't tell me.

I didn't say much in the car ride up, but I felt slightly bad for what had happened. I hadn't had a decent conversation with her for a long time and it was getting to me. I didn't know what to say after such awkward times. As usual, Cyrus greeted us when we arrived, stepping out of his personal limo.

"Welcome to Dead Man's Curb," his voice spoke eagerly.

I speculate the place for a second, but before I can see much, Cyrus calls me over.

"Come here my boy," he points to a blocked out cub. "Right here. Place her hand on the barrier and tell me if you see anything."

I didn't want to go over there. I knew what I would see when my psychic ability kicked in. Another lost soul, dying in a vicious way. Cyrus looked at me with impatience and I slouched my way over, giving in. Many eyes were staring at me, a pair belonging to Erin, but most watching with curiosity to how my power worked. I step over the asphalt and onto the dirt; the crunching beneath my feet is the only sound I hear. Reaching to my destination, I slowly place my hand outward.

Touching the rail, images flash inside my head. One boy was a baseball pro. Good kid, but got in a lot of trouble at school and with the local greasers. Was disrespectful to property and could never take down a dare. Was challenged to a street race, it backfired and he crushed, dying in a blaze of fire. I'm quickly snapped into reality.

"Damn kid was into street racing a bit too much. Cost him his life," I yell, but am pushed from an unseen force and know who it is.

The men back away, seeing the ghost of the boy who haunts the curb. "Royce Clayton," Cyrus yells, his cane held high.

I steady myself, looking at Erin, then over at the dirt, when I put on my glasses. There he is, the poor soul, standing right by my side. He'd been torn up, his body burnt. One side of his body exposes the bare bone and brain tissue. He was not a pretty site. In his hands, he carries a baseball bat. "Hey, don't look at me like that. It wasn't my fault you couldn't step down on a dare."

Making him even angrier, he stepped foreword, his hands tightening around the bat. He began to taunt me. "Sorry, I don't feel like playing a game."

"The Torn Prince," I hear some of the men say. "He hasn't killed anyone, yet, but he sure as hell beat his victims to a bloody pulp."

"Isn't that comforting," I mock.

"Dennis boy, lure him to the contraption," I hear Cyrus yell.

"Working on it," I mutter back.

Being the jerk that he was, Cyrus hadn't put on the Latin chant and I often wondered why he was making me suffer so. One daring man came up to me, fear in his eyes. "The cassette is scattered," he says.

"Great. Why didn't he just put it on CD? How are we going to get him in that thing now?"

"Distract him, till we get it up and running. I know Cyrus has extra copies. A professional knows better."

"A professional. Yeah, sure. And there ain't no way in hell that I'm going to distract him. I've been doing Cyrus' dirty work this whole time. Have someone else do it," I yell directly to Cyrus.

I hear a distinct whooshing, followed by a large crack of something hard. Nervously, I turn and see that the brave man had now fallen onto the ground, his ribs cracked. And it could've been done by none other than Royce himself.

"Oh fuck," I yell and step backwards, "add one to his kill list."

Almost tripping as I step back, I look at the guy who lies on the floor not moving, but gasping for air, as the blood soaks his clothing.

"Look, can't we just have a friendly little chat?" I smile weakly, trying to calm Royce down, but he wouldn't have it.

"Dennis, quit playing around," Cyrus yells, not enjoying my negotiation.

"And you have a better plan?"

I'd gotten Royce closer to the box, all the while he growled at me, impatient and wanting to beat the crap out of me. I demanded for the chant to be fixed, for everything else was already set up, so why not this time? Why did everything have to mess up now? If the music didn't work, getting Royce inside the containment box was going to be tricky and very deadly. I could sense Erin was worried about me and I don't blame her. I was worried for myself and scared. It seemed to me that these ghosts had become more violent every time we approached a new one. And wherever I went, they always took a liking to me.

Pain struck in my head and I got the image of the boy's body being melted and torn apart inside the car. His screams unheard as he burned quickly inside the automobile. I felt his pain, felt it as if it were happening to me and I let out a cry. Why did he have to stay on Earth when something this horrible happened to him? Grabbing my head and coming back, I saw that Royce had gone past me and to the box. The chant was up and running again. It was repaired and I was left clueless.

Having Royce trapped now, I went to the spot where that man had fallen. "I'm sorry," is all I mutter to him.

"Your not the one to blame," he wheezes. "I wanted to see ghosts, but I didn't know the consequences. Curiosity killed the cat once again. Listen!" He pulls me down, "Get out of here while your still alive."

"I would, but Cyrus, he offered me a lot of money and without it, I can't survive."

"It's not worth your life and sanity. Look at that woman over there. She cares about you, don't you care about her? If your life isn't worth it, then hers isn't."

"Alright, I'll quit," I lie, knowing that I won't leave.

He lets me go and falls flat on the dirt, his body still and his eyes close. Cyrus walks over to us and shakes his head. "He was a good one too."

"Give the guy some more credit. He died trying to collect your obsessions. The least you can do is respect him." Pissed, I walk off, not even turning my back to look at him.